One Child's Mind Deserves Another
by Matthew Cornery
Summary: The prologue to a story telling the ancient history of chapters yet to come. Please read and reveiw... please.


** Final Fantasy**

**Prologue:**

**_One Child's Mind Deserves Another__ _**

All was nightly quiet in the Tylerinn Forest _(as it always was even though no one goes through it. At this time, the population of the planet was still very low) as one person, a scout, traversed the open-canopy plain on the back of a yellow-feathered chocobo. At one point across the darkly illuminated clearing came a fallen tree trunk. It was just lying there on the ground, a hole where the bottom had rooted up. _

"Whoa, boy," he said to his ride, stopping his trail and peering down at it's dark qualities. After thinking to himself, he shook his head. "That is very odd. A trunk lying on the ground like that should not be there." The scout was very mature and had a voice that seemed to rattle the air around the chocobo he was riding. "The Tylerinn Forest has reviving powers," he told the chocobo, which could not know more about what the scout was talking about than the trees themselves. "It can heal any living being that falls. That is very good. But to have a strange dead tree in the middle of a strange dead clearing; that is most unusual." 

The animal squawked and rustled its feathers to show that it was bored. 

"Death and failure in forest usually results in death and failure in kingdom. And for it to come at the time of the great mirror conjoining, that is most unfortunate." 

His name was Cyekk and he was a descendent of the Narlimey tribe located on the far end of Trokiet Island, which was on the southeastern flank of the large and great island kingdom known as Bashley. He had left at the age of four, which was pretty young for a Narlimey but quite old for a normal being, and had traveled the land in search of the power being and to serve him, or her, as the one and great solder and servant of all conjoinings; also learning all he could. Narlimey life spans are extremely long. Cyekk is only fifty of age. That would be four hundred and sixty years old, and still about several thousand years to go, so he has plenty of time to learn. And in all of his life, he had never seen anything like this happen to him. Cyekk was placed in charge of scouting out and covering the trail of his army as they advanced their wants forward. And before that, long before that, he had finally found his power being.

But now he was here, serving the army of Bashley and had been glad to do so until his mind started working maturely. The things that he and his kingdom were doing were bad, very bad. But, supposedly, the worst had not been unconfined yet. _And for it to come at the time of the great mirror conjoining, that is most unfortunate._

The great mirror conjoining is an unstoppable way to conserve peace between the two large kingdoms of Bashley. One kingdom is here on this world and the other is through the hall of mirrors in the mirror world. Eventually, the planet travels through the Preciron Aura causing the daylight to be red, blue, or green. For some magical reason, when the light from the aura hits or touches a mirror, any mirror, the two worlds coexist together for a short time then cross over into each other's land. This world's Bashley is the origin and mandate of the land, _(for the mirror world has certain land boundaries that the beings can't go out of. Basically, they're trapped within a mirror) and what is done with it is for the king's legion to decide. The two kingdoms have an agreement that, at the time of the aura and conjoining, they settle down on the current land. Their agreement is like a "__don't do that and we won't do this," type pact, because after the aura, the mirror inhabitants will have the outer world and the outer inhabitants will have the mirror world. That is how it has worked for centuries and perhaps centuries at a time._

So far, the pact has never been broken. Until, of course, now. One child's mind has managed to crumble the very existents of its people's pride and hard work in keeping up the agreement. Because, well, they're all in this together and whatever happens to one society will take a toll on the counterpart. What goes around comes around. And the mirrors have become sacred. But it was the mirror world that was destroyed; destroyed by a menacing terror; a terror so great, that it could traverse the two worlds; and that terror _is a child. _

"It is a shame that we are going to war," Cyekk said to the chocobo, giving the stirrups a slight flung to make the animal proceed. "If it was not for that Epitath's evil mind, we would not have this problem. And we would not be about to fight our friends."

The chocobo slowed and ducked around low branches that had their leaves barely clinging to them as they reentered the forest at the other side of the clearing.

Just beyond the wall of trees was Cyekk's camp and the high commander Joloin was gesturing around an unscale model of the battlefield they were expecting to be on. Cyekk, being the only Narlimey in the army had logical doubts about the upcoming battle. And, because he was a Narlimey, and an intelligent one at that, he was not affected by the Epitath's mind control tricks. Thus, keeping a clear mind for what he wanted. Not for what she wanted. 

The Epitath was a she. And the utmost terror that could possibly skimmer in her mind has been released. She hadn't spoken very much since Cyekk had arrived right before the previous conjoining. She must have been a little touchy that she hadn't completed her plans before then. Well, because of that, she had more time to think, and plan, and hadn't even shown herself during the ten days the army had been traveling across the land. 

Cyekk walked pass the human carriage that her closest servants carried her in, managed to inconspicuously cock his head and raise his eyebrow at the drawn curtains waving curiously in the forest breeze, and cold almost see the battle's ending. It was not a pretty sight, what battles are, and he shook the foreseen path from his mind. It was about time that he started away from this fate. So he started. He started by saying something to Joloin. 

He unsaddled himself from the chocobo and chose the words with which he would start. "I have finished my run," he said, "There are no signs of followers. That is to our advantage." 

The other stopped in his verbal tracks and half turned to Cyekk. "That is indeed good, my friend. We won't have any worries from the back side." Joloin turned back to the model.

Now is as good a time as ever. "Excuse me, High Commander," said Cyekk in a peevish voice, once again looking to get Joloin's attention.

"Hm?" was the reply.

"I've been thinking. And I think that it is about time that I took my leave and found another powerful master."

Was that a chuckle that came out of Joloin? "She never liked you anyway," he told Cyekk, admitting that it was a chuckle.

"I know," said Cyekk with a frowned face, "That is very unfortunate for me."

There goes that chuckle again. "Cyekk, you have been the greatest friend to me. I would hate to see you leave, but I knew this time would come. So if you're asking for permission to be relived of command, then, permission granted."

"Thank you, sir," said Cyekk, bowing his head and bringing it up in traditional Narlimey politeness.

"It's a pity that you won't get to see your own battle plan go into action and win."

He seemed confident, didn't he? "That is alright," said Cyekk, "War is not what I have liked all of my life."

"Here's something to remember me by." Joloin turned and slipped the necklace he was wearing from around his neck and put it into Cyekk's hand.

"Your pendent? But this has several uses for this kingdom's heritage."

"That's okay, I have three more at home. It's not much, but it should at least last a thousand years."

"Thank you, sir," Cyekk said, bowing again, "I only wish I had something for you."

"Don't worry about it," Joloin waved away, "You have to leave, I understand that; you must do what you must do."

"I thank you for your understanding, High Commander," said Cyekk, "I will find a way to help the kingdom in years to come."

"Alright, Cyekk. Goodbye." 

As Cyekk turned away from his former high commander, he could feel his conscious pulling him back, but he ignored it. Cyekk knew that his conscious wanted more than just leaving. He knew it wanted to stay and see what happens, how the battle turns out, and most of all, to tell someone about the tree; the dead tree laying there like a hump of charred life. 

He placed the pendent in his saddlebag and started to maneuver the chocobo through the cluttered camp, walking pass the Epitath's tent for the last time.

There were two of her, just like there were two of the kingdom. This one was the utmost terror. Was the other one the same? Or will she fight against the army? If she will fight, the Epitath in the tent would probably anticipate the action, therefore immediately overcoming her, or just controlling everyone else's minds. She _was_ a terror. A terror that didn't care that the minds of free people were controlled. 

Cyekk figured that it was just a stage and will pass when she doesn't need them anymore. They would have completed what she wanted _(And that would probably be independence, her being a child.) _But she appeared not to be intelligent, Cyekk knew, because she had the ability to appear between the two worlds and didn't even know it.

With the guidance of Cyekk, the chocobo stepped over a small spring. It's eyes looked tempted to drink from it, so Cyekk allowed it to. When finished, he saddled the chocobo and they were off. As soon as they rode to the outskirts of the camp, Cyekk vigorously whipped at the stirrups and the chocobo responded by speeding up.

The war had been an unseen thing that had come from the wills and ways of the Epitath. Cyekk resented it just as it was and whatever it would grow in to. Again, she was a terror. The things she had done, and the things she didn't even need to do, proved it. The people worshiped her as if she were their source of power. She was, actually. The entire Epitath legacy was based on the consumption of thoughts and, in return for these thoughts, she produced power; the power which was used for magic; the magic which was used to extract more thoughts and so on. She was synchronal to other beings that did the same. _(The _Esper _was unknown of at this time.)_ Cyekk couldn't see how the Narlimeys would benefit from serving a power being like her.  _(Except possibly protection from their warring enemy, the Phlebesiains, which had been a continuous threat.)_ She expected too much, just like a child; she wanted everything, just like a child; she had even been to school, just like a child. And she wanted to play. Simply play. She'll have her way if this war takes place.

But why should Cyekk stop it?

"C'mon boy," he said to the chocobo, "I want to make it out of the forest by morning."

The chocobo squawked its thoughts out and bobbed its head.

++++++++++++++++++++

In the morning, High Commander Joloin marched with his troops. The entire army of Bashley was along the front line, walking, clattering, ascending out of the distinguishable line of trees and hastily scoring victories over the series of plants that were trampled on.

Toward the castle, a few raindrops had settled in and made the ground wet and slippery. And the moat was browned and overflowing because of runoff.

Other than ground troops, the Bashley army included several catapults and base lifters to put up to the wall of the castle. Arrowmen were in the back so they could cover the others or replace vital solders. After the arrowmen, came the mounted officials followed by the magicians and finally the king and his court. Each foot had the rhythm that maintained the even pace until Joloin yelled halt. 

The intruding line of solders stopped somewhat fifty yards away from the moat. There was only one bridge across it; a small stone bridge arching across the brown liquid, but looked as if it was digging into the sides of the moat. Joloin hadn't expected to use the bridge anyway. Beyond the bridge, was the castle, just as they had left it last time: cold and empty. In a way the silence contributed to the expectations of the battle. And the silence was eerie.

_I do not like this_, thought Joloin as he looked over the dim confines of the large building shadowing over the ground.

There were nervous storm clouds above their heads, threatening to send brutal blows down at anyone who wasn't kind to them; also blocking any daylight that the morning had to throw in.

Cyekk would have said that it was "very unfortunate" that the battlers could not see the light from the aura. The battle was about to start and yet they didn't know exactly when because there was no red, green, or blue light. It was cloudy on this side, but was it cloudy on the other? If it was, then the aura would take longer to come into effect. All that's needed for the conversion is a small opening in the clouds to touch a mirror. Any mirror.

Joloin's mind became restless. "Stand ready, men," he told them as a flock of Phewers noisily fluttered out of the trees. Those radiant birds with the one silver stripe down the back must have seen it coming because neither the army nor the king nor Joloin even sniffed to it.

But it _did_ happen.

Out of the sky and beyond the fading clouds came a distant ruby color, shading the old castle and the moat and the army in the color of blood.

Blood. That's an interesting color. For years, blood had been used in determining the king; but yet at the same time, blood also meant death, wounded, or hate. At other times, blood was used as a sacrifice; and in Narlimey tradition, blood is considered the only way to become intelligent.

Blood was, of course, taken into consideration as Joloin stood facing the castle gate fifty yards away.

The light. The light had already shown through so that must mean that the rest will follow.

And it did. The first signs being the sets of mirrors on top of the roof. These were the cause of the conjoining. The next signs were the armory. The main sign wasn't the arrival of things that weren't there before but the arrival of the minds and souls that weren't there before.

Smoke immediately started protruding from the smoke stacks as a few tower watchmen poked their heads up out of the window openings in the castle wall.

"They're here," yelled one of them.

"Tell the king," yelled another.

"The king has been told," said another voice, this time, from the overhang above the gate. "He would like to say a few things first."

"By all means," replied Joloin.

After that, the king himself appeared in a window. Everyone was silent as if they wanted no war. Then he spoke:

"Upon past conjoinings, our two kingdoms have lived in peace. Much peace. If we wanted something, we asked. We did favors for each other. But what I have seen in the mirror is not a favor. Your former world, or what is left of it, will be unlivable for years to come. We cannot live on what you have left for us. Your current choice of action is irrational and we will not tolerate this any longer. Our ancestors would not like this and our decedents would not like this. So I ask you to ask yourself: what do you think you are doing?"

"We know what we are doing," yelled Joloin back to him.

"Then what?" demanded the other.

Joloin appeared speechless. Deep in his mind was absolutely no reason for the actions of his kingdom. Nor did his king have any reason to do what they were doing. But from the Epitath's tent, came a low and earthly whistle. Joloin waited; listening; about to object to the battle but the noise became louder. He lost all thought then yelled, "Attack!"

The objective king's eyes widened to where he could widen them no longer. The army was charging at the castle, drowning the moat with living beings, and persisting for the base lifters to be against the outer wall before they got there. It took some time for the solders to haul the lifters over the moat, but they finally reached their destination; only four of them extended to the tops of the walls. As the solders climbed, Joloin yelled, "Air attack," and the archers aimed up and shot. The barrage of arrows curved down and went behind the wall of the castle to hit no one.

The lifters had been climbed and the top had been reached. Two lifters had been knocked down and several people fell into the water but from the other two lifters, people jumped to the wall. Some were fortunate enough to reach the top but others had to grab on to the windows along the wall, pulling themselves through the small openings and drawing their swords to engage a lower floor group, which outnumbered them, and were took prisoner.

The catapults launched a string of large stones at the walls, thus making them crumble and knock more people into the moat. People threw out large objects like pots and tables from the inside of the wall at the constantly nearing enemy. Another window was made in an empty spot on the wall by a catapult and the hole shown through both the floor of the upper room and the ceiling of the lower room.

Joloin saw it. He quickly motioned for one of the two lifters to be placed at it. Obeying orders, several solders stopped their advance and shifted the nearest one over. They were finished in no time and that made Joloin happy. There was now one unguarded opening to the inside that Joloin's army could pour in to.

But not for long. The six men with the battering ram stumbled out of the forest with their heavy load that was all theirs. Now that it had arrived, Joloin can go ahead and proceed into the castle to "take the flag" via makeshift window. And what better way than to go over the bridge.

So he did. No sooner had he stepped foot on it, a cavalry came right up from under him. They must have been buried beneath the moat, and when they rose, they scared the pigment out of the solders that had fallen in. Joloin caught the attention of the archers. "Protect that ram as it goes by," he yelled to them as another rock from a catapult hit the wall with a muted crack.

++++++++++++++++++++

In the basement hall where the king had fled, you could hear the battle raging on outside. The hall was lit with giant flames on each side and columns were aligned on both sides. The room was a dead end, but on the other side, was the kingdom's Epitath; young, whitened, and unonerous; sitting cross-legged on the floor meditating. The king strolled in and before he could announce himself, the Epitath started, "I know what is happening out there. It's because of me isn't it?"

"No, My Loyalty. It is not because of you," the king tried to soothe.

"Yes it is. I am out there controlling the other's minds. They work together. That explains why they advance like so."

"No, My Loyalty. It is not because of you," the king repeated softer.

"I can't even control myself," she continued as a pound sounded in the distance, "Listen to that, it's my fault."

"No, My Loyalty. It is not you out there."

"I can feel her presents. I could have felt it years ago."

The king saw the sudden change in blaming herself to blaming herself and tried to think of something to say, but it was not enough.

"I know she's here to get me," she called out. "Just like the prophecy said. She will leave you no power and without power you will have no magic."

"Don't say that, My Loyalty. None of us knows what will happen."

The Epitath's face scrunched up as if a sudden strike of pain had hit her. "I feel her mind calling. It is not going to go well out there."

"How could a nice little girl go bad like that? Is there any hope?"

"Perhaps one. I must fight her."

"She seems very powerful," noted the king, "Are you sure?"

"It is a chance. Hold back your men. I will need to self destruct; spreading all of my power throughout the land. The close impact may kill her, but if she survives, she will not be able to place one finger on this land."

"It has a down side to it, doesn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said the young one. "The power covering the kingdom will eventually fade away over time, but by then, the Epitaths will be extinct."

"Epitaths are immortal, My Loyalty."

"I know," she said, starting to choke her words, "But without me, she will die. And we are the last of the legend. Only a legend now." A tear found it's way out and reflected enough to the firelight to blind the king.

As he covered his eyes in response, he said softly, "I will keep the legend alive, My Loyalty."

When he could see again, the Epitath was walking out of the room.

"Don't forget what happens when you touch," he said after her.

"Another conjoining is not what we need," she replied back as she left view.

++++++++++++++++++++

"Here is a second flank," sounded Joloin to his troops as he pointed out another small mass of solders coming from around the corner.

The High Commander had led a group into the castle through the hole that had been made. As they started to fight, the Epitath made an appearance.

Out on the battlefield, the tent stood swaying in the breeze. The red atmosphere had changed to green, which made it very hard to determine what were the sky, trees, and grass. Very little went unnoticed on the battlefield. Of the things that did go unnoticed was the eye looking out over the events, peering from a thin opening in the tent. The eye stared around and then finally caught glimpse of the battering ram and the archers protecting it from the cavalry. _It won't be long now_, thought the mind behind the eye.

The king came up behind the Epitath that made Joloin confused. "Please," he said, "She must proceed." 

"I can't allow that," replied Joloin, "She'll destroy us all."

The king let out a soft swear and put his back against the wall. His hand felt a loose rock that could easily become a weapon. Gently as to not make much movement, he started inching it out.

"You are obviously mistaken," said the Epitath, "I am not the bad one here."

"You will never step foot out of this castle," threatened Joloin.

When she took a step forward, he placed the point of his blade to her neck as if to say, "I'm not joking."

"You can't do that," the Epitath told him, "You know well that an Epitath can not be killed."

"One can be hurt," replied Joloin strictly.

"No," she said back, "One can not. You don't know what you are doing. She is in control of you."

The stone was almost out. If Joloin wouldn't look over he could get it.

"If you don't let me pass, everyone will die," she told Joloin.

"I can't do that," said Joloin, "You will never step foot out of this castle."

"Listen to reason."

But there was no reason for the controlled. The king had figured that out when Joloin had yelled attack. And so far, this plan was going down hill. Joloin never saw the rather large rock come from the hand of the king. It struck him in the head and he fell to the floor out of reflex.

But he was not dead. Joloin strived to get to his feet but just couldn't do it in time.

"The path of single intrication is one led easier than that with complex pieces," noted the king.

"You are wise," commented the Epitath. Then she went by and followed the hallway out.

++++++++++++++++++++

 The eye that was peering from the tent saw the fiery arrow hit one of her carriers. He fell over in a burning lump. One less mind to worry about. The battering ram had had made it to the gate, but not without difficulties. A swarm of enemy archers had come out of the moat, their arrowheads dry and ready to light. And from this, one of the two lifters had caught on fire.

It was only a matter of time before the ram would turn the gate into splinters. 

_But now there's no need,_ she thought as a glimmer of light from the balcony over the gate caught her eye. It was who she thought it was. The most intolerable sole in both of the worlds, the Epitath.

Almost as soon as she showed herself, the evil Epitath's eye grinned. The amazing and intense control over the army ceased and focused on the rival, trying to overcome her and her alone. It was almost as if she wanted only her.

The battlefield was now silent, also silently changing the color to blue. Since the attacking army had stopped, the other stopped as well. Joloin, staggering, came out onto the balcony. The ram had stopped just short of pounding on the gate. The carrier was still burning and now there was a stream of light extruding from the crack that the eye peered from.

That was where the Epitath knew to look. Using her powers and abilities to make sure, she lifted curtains back. There it was; the sole terror of Bashley, unyielding to all magic and calls. She hoped that this would work.

They saw each other. And, in the event that the world will become a paradox, they went at it, sending a series of psychotic blasts to the other.

The evil Epitath became furious at the attempt to counter her insane attacks, and how well it was working. She increased her control over the array. _No,_ she thought, _it couldn't be. She's using the blasts to stall for something. What she is doing is charging up._

"Hold that beast," yelled Joloin, coming to his correct senses, to the unoccupied solders who were also coming to their senses. He gestured toward the tent but it was to late. The evil one was walking slowly toward the castle, not changing her continuous glance from her equivalent on the overhang after they had ceased their attacks.

"I know what she has in mind," said the king, coming up behind the charging Epitath. "Will there be enough time?"

"Just enough… I hope," was the reply from her.

But apparently didn't fulfill itself. The evil mind lifted it's body off of the ground, just as a solder reached out to grab her and was thrown back because of her force, floating over the moat and to the top of the gate where the other Epitath was. There was no waiting. Now was the time. The evil one, with an outstretched arm, reached the overhang. The other resisted.

"You will do as I say," she demanded, showing an unmerciful manifestation with her small, whitened hand. "Come here."

The atmosphere had silently changed to red again, which startled tha armies as one of the two Epitaths shuttered in her mind and showed her weakness. And started moving toward her caller.

"Don't let them touch," sounded the king's voice, grave and serious, over the dazzling silence.

The good Epitath's hand, for some reason, rose as the two became nearer. 

Joloin did not want to see this happen. He knew what would occur if they were to just merely touch fingers. That was why their castles were so far apart. "No," he exclaimed, "She is controlling your mind. You don't know what you are doing!"

From the Epitath's now shattered and disabled mind came a distant and warbled sound as she managed to push all that she could through her mouth. "I… can't… help it."

"That can't be," he alleged. And then, without thinking, Joloin leaped forward, unaware that he was leaping off the overhang, and at that instant, good and evil fought to prevail over each other, and, in a tremendous rage, evil won.

Time seemed to stop as evil took the prize: full possession of the free Epitath's body. But it came at a price. 

As Joloin hung over the edge of the balcony, he thought to himself, _why didn't I see it coming?_

After that, as he fell the rest of the way, everybody else managed to snag a glimpse of her new form before being engulfed in an outward growing sphere of flame.

Well almost everybody…

++++++++++++++++++++

Cyekk and his chocobo swayed along the short grasses growing on the tall hill that stared over the forest. That's when he heard the rumbling. He looked down. The blades of grass themselves were trembling as if frightened by a ghost. 

Then he looked behind him, something that he hadn't wanted to do ever again, and wished he hadn't. The middle of the forest lit up with orange flames that didn't go entirely to the outskirts but probably left enough of a forest fire to consume the rest.

"That is most terrifying," he commented as the sphere faded away. "And for it to come at the time of the great mirror conjoining, that is very unfortunate."

He whipped at the reins and the chocobo responded by moving on.

"They shouldn't have let them touch," he told the chocobo, who couldn't understand.

Around his neck, was the pendent that Joloin had given him.

"I will find a way to help the kingdom in years to gather," he whispered as he grasped it.

Beneath him, the chocobo squawked.

End of Prologue.


End file.
